“Right, well, the problem is,” he finally said to Catriona, “I wasn’t expecting you. I don’t have a room ready.”
“You will give her my room,” the duke commanded.
“I don’t have a room for you, either,” Taran said.
Lord Oakley groaned.
“It’s very kind of you to have rooms prepared,” Marilla said prettily.
Catriona could only gape. Taran Ferguson had kidnapped her and she was
“I’m not really sure where to put you,” Taran said slowly. He looked over at the sofa, frowning thoughtfully.
That was
He scratched his head. “Well, now, it’d be a sight more comfortable than the floor.”
“And I am not going to sleep on the floor!”
The duke stepped forward, his eyes deadly. “Mr. Ferguson, I suggest you find a chamber for the lady.”
“I don’t really—”
“Or you will answer to me.”
Silence fell. Catriona looked over at the duke, stunned that he would come so fiercely to her defense.
“Miss Burns may share a room with me,” Lady Cecily said. Catriona shot her a look of gratitude.
“Can’t do,” Taran said. “There’s only the one small bed.”
“Put the sisters together,” the duke suggested imperiously.
“Already have,” Taran replied. “You’ll be sharing a bed, lassies,” he said to the Chisholm sisters, “but it’s comfortable enough. Never had any royal visits here, so no need to get any of our extra bedrooms fancied up.”
“We have two very nice guest rooms at our home,” Marilla said. “We once hosted the Earl of Mayne.”
“In 1726,” Fiona muttered.
“Well, it’s still the Mayne room,” Marilla said with a sniff, “and if any of you came to visit, that is where we would put you. Well, except maybe you,” she said, blinking in Catriona’s direction.
“Marilla!” Fiona gasped.
“She lives just five miles away,” Marilla protested. “She would hardly need a guest room.”
“One apparently never knows when one might need an extra guest room,” the duke said dryly.
“So true,” Marilla said. “So very, very true.” She looked over at him with that annoyingly catlike tilt of her head and batted her eyelashes. “Are you always so very, very wise?”
Bretton, apparently at the end of his rope, just looked at her and said baldly, “Yes.”
Catriona choked on laughter, then feigned a few coughs when the duke turned to her with an arched brow. Oh dear heavens, was he serious? She’d thought he was merely trying to shake off Marilla.
“Well,” Taran declared, filling the awkward silence, “we’ll find something for everyone. In the meantime, let’s get the rest of you settled. Where is Mrs. McVittie? Oh, there you are!”
His housekeeper nodded from the doorway.
He flicked a hand toward every female besides Catriona. “See these three up to their rooms. And, ah, Robin and Byron, why don’t you go as well. Just to make sure everything is as it should be.”
Lord Oakley shook his head. “As it should be,” he repeated in disbelief.
“Give Lady Cecilia the blue room, or at least the one that used to be blue, and Miss— Well, actually, it really doesn’t matter. Give them whichever room they want.” Taran turned back to Catriona and the duke, who were still standing by the fire. “I’ll see what I can find for the two of you.”
“Bretton can have my room,” Lord Oakley said, standing in the doorway as everyone else filed out.
“No, really,” the duke responded, his voice a mocking monotone, “I couldn’t possibly inconvenience you.”
Lord Oakley rolled his eyes and exited into the great hall.
It was only then that Catriona realized she had been left quite alone with the Duke of Bretton.
